


Back to the Old House

by softwired



Series: Smiths AU [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softwired/pseuds/softwired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short sequel to This Charming Man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to the Old House

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was done with this story, but I guess since the summer isn't over and I'm still in my podunk mountain town I just can't help but think of things like this. So here's a bit of an addition or epilogue. I realized after I wrote it there was actually a Smiths song to go with it, so it was meant to be.

  


Cas shuffled past Dean's bedroom door for the fourth time, still searching for his lost ID badge. He'd scoured his apartment and his truck, so it had to be in this house somewhere. He almost wished selfishly that Dean would abandon work for the day and appear to help him look. Dean would probably find the thing in two seconds flat, somehow knowing just where it would be, even if that place was a foot and a half under the refrigerator.

When he came back down the hall, now thoroughly forlorn, he paused to lean against the doorway to the bedroom. He sighed, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to dispel his frustration. He'd only come to town to search the house, and had spent his visit frantically scurrying around the place. This was the first time he really looked into his old bedroom, now Dean's, and saw the way only one of the curtains was pulled haphazardly open, and the bed was rumpled and half-made. He hadn't been here in a couple of days, but whenever he stayed over the bed was always made in the morning and the curtains pulled shut. Cas knew it wasn't in Dean's nature to worry about things like that, but for some reason he was reflexively attentive to every one of Cas' quirks and desires, and Cas kept things neat.

Fighting not to feel completely hopeless over the loss of the one thing he absolutely needed to get into the stupid concert the next afternoon, he trudged over to the bed and let himself fall forward onto it.

He shut his eyes, rubbing his face onto the soft flannel of the fitted sheet and absently curling the fingers of one hand into the rough comforter. It smelled like Dean, even more than anything else in the house possibly could, and he could almost imagine the left over warmth from his body cradled in the soft groove his weight had dug in the mattress. The mattress was relatively new--Lisa had bought it not long before Dean moved in--but the frame and the box spring were both Cas', and they had never been moved to another spot in the room since he'd moved out years and years ago.

He spread his arm out toward Dean's skewed pillow and pulled himself up before turning onto his back. This is where Dean slept, and this had been the exact position Cas had slept in, in the very same bed years before. He stared up at the pocked ceiling and thought of the times he'd laid there in despair. So much of the time he'd spent in this house had been filled with necessity and forced optimism. He'd grieved his mother here, packed his dreams away to be the best brother and best man he could. He'd supported Lisa and watched her surpass him in so many ways. The whole time, he hadn't known wether he would ever be able to leave his home town again, to seek out something just a little more profound for himself.

He'd been alone. And it wasn't exactly easy to find any kind of satisfaction as a gay man in the Appalachian boondocks. He'd managed it, maybe not more than twice, to bed someone in this bed. But they were almost like scratching an itch when the result was more split stitches than instant gratification. It just meant that when he laid in the bed he was ever more aware that it was big enough for more than one, that he would contemplate every inch of vast unoccupied space in the room.

When he couldn't sleep, he might have a hard time admitting, he would occasionally lay on his side and imagine there was someone beside him. He hadn't been desperate, and in fact quite the opposite. It was just that every so often he'd felt his singularity so acutely that it was overwhelming, and to imagine was more comforting and more convenient than settling for a real person he didn't really want.

He'd been relieved to leave that bed behind in the hope of finding something to pride himself on, maybe someone. Over years, he'd found a great deal of the satisfaction he'd been looking for, loved himself and never again felt a fraction of the despair he'd experienced in the old house.

If it hadn't been for the circumstances, Cas might not have seen the empty place Dean was meant to fill. It was terribly obvious now, of course, and when he was still living in this house, he was sure that the sight and unique presence that was Dean Winchester would have driven him to absolute madness with barefaced desire. He would have lost a lot of sleep until he managed to look down at Dean on that bed and feel the weight of him beside him. He could imagine it that way since he felt something close to it whenever they spent more than two nights away from each other.

Now he was in this bed again, and it was satisfying, even if it wasn't really his anymore. Somehow Dean had made everything about the place happy, exciting, warm.

He pulled the blanket over himself. He didn't really need to go back to the station today. They'd survive.

Dean was surprised to find Cas' truck in the driveway when he finally got home from work. It was hours before he said he'd be there, and Dean had thought he would be at the station. He parked behind him anyway, blocking him in. Might as well take advantage of his good fortune. He wasn't exactly quiet going in, which he immediately felt bad about when he stepped into his bedroom. Cas asleep, fully clothed, on his side of the bed, was probably the last thing he expected to find. His hair was a mess, he needed a shave, his clothes would be wrinkled, and sleeping in jeans was always regrettable. God, was it ever adorable. Dean could only stand to stare for a few seconds before he made his way to the side of the bed.

"Hey, Cas," he called softly, sliding him gently by the hips so he could have enough space to sit down beside him. Cas finally squirmed to life, dropping his arm across Dean's thighs and spreading his palm out against one as he blinked upward.

"Hm, Dean," he cleared his throat, eyes finally focusing.

"Taking a nap?" Dean asked.

"It appears so," he answered. Dean reached out to run his fingers along Cas' jaw in an assessment of the stubble there. Cas smirked at him, and he leaned in for a kiss. Cas was lazy in his reception of it.

"When's dinner?" Cas asked as soon as he pulled away.

"Geez, demanding much?" Dean joked, "You know, I just got home from work. Seems like I should be asking you that."

"Not unless you want another lecture on gender roles, harmful stereotypes, and the tragedy of I Love Lucy," Cas answered flatly, smile crooked.

"Dinner's in two hours then, you big baby," Dean murmured against Cas' mouth. Cas' lips followed him as he pulled away, and he couldn't help huffing in amusement. Cas let out a sound of indignation that was close to a cluck, snatching the side of Dean's shirt and managing to pull him down onto the bed with one harsh yank. It had to be all that damn handy work he did for Lisa that kept him in such good shape. Otherwise, there was no way the scrawny little radio DJ could overpower Dean so easily. He was rolled onto his back with the firm, slow push of Cas' hands and body.

"The two hours was so I could actually have time to cook something, you know," Dean said, raising an eyebrow at Cas, though he was sure the effect was ruined by the smile creeping its way onto his face. Cas ran his hands down Dean's arms, toes brushing the side of one of Dean's feet.

"I'm not that hungry," he answered, kissing Dean lazily. Dean felt Cas' fingers curl around his own to pull at them, laying his palms against Cas' back. He could feel the sharp press of Cas' ribs and hips as he shifted carefully. Dean got the point, hands slipping up Cas' shirt to press his fingers against the edge of his shoulder blades. Cas relaxed against him, arms reaching up to fall loosely around Dean's head.

Dean sighed. Cas was a little heavy, making it a bit more of a struggle to breath deeply, but it felt good somehow, to be compressed by that soft, solid body. Cas hummed, sliding his rough cheek against Dean's to drop his head onto the pillow. Dean turned to look at him, meeting one calm blue eye, too close to see much else. They stared at each other, letting the rhythm of their breathing synchronize.

"What were you going to make?" Cas murmured after a moment. Dean grinned, thumbs drawing circles against Cas' warm skin.

"Whatever you wanted," he answered, voice resonant with amusement.

"Is that why it was going to take so long?" Cas huffed.

"Knowing you," Dean gave the barest of shrugs.

"What if I asked for pizza?" Cas asked.

"You ask me for yeast dough, yeah, maybe I'll pull off a miracle in a couple of hours," Dean answered, chest rumbling with low laughter. Cas' eye rolled before narrowing back at Dean, as if to say, in a thoroughly unamused voice, 'You know what I mean.' Dean "hm"'ed thoughtfully.

"You don't want Dominoes," he informed Cas. That one blue eye blinked and stared at him. Dean felt overwhelmingly satisfied. Cas could try and toy with him all he wanted, but Dean would always trump him with irritatingly sweet candor. Cas surprised him with a loose slap to the side of the face. "Ow," Dean laughed. Cas sighed against his neck, eyes closing.

"Shut up," he commanded, "Spaghetti only takes thirty minutes." His hand settled in Dean's hair, and Dean closed his eyes in suit.

"Yeah, I love you too," Dean said. Cas huffed.

As for the ID, Dean fished it out of one of the pillowcases when Cas finally remembered to ask him if he'd seen it. That was enough to tell Cas that his bed had officially been appropriated by Dean Winchester.


End file.
